In the Present
by life among the dead
Summary: Zuko fully expected a confrontation with Sokka's proud father after their escape from the Boiling Rock. What he didn't expect was what it would lead to. Rated M for a reason.


It was getting darker.

Zuko perched down on the open catwalk of the airship and watched as the night sky gained in on them, following the floating vessel unfailingly – just like Azula was no doubt doing right now. Cold air hit him in the face and tangled in his hair, filled the thin prison rags and tried to chill his bones, but he welcomed it. It felt good. Soothing. After the excitement of today, he could really use something to cool him down.

He leaned down and watched the world glide past them, the shadow of the airship trailing behind over the dark waters like a giant bird. His feet dangled carelessly over the edge of the catwalk above the ocean way, way down below, but the sight did not stir any pangs of fear in his gut. He had never been afraid of heights.

No. It had always been the people around him who taught him what it was to be afraid.

Zuko took a deep breath and closed his eyes, offering his face to the cold gusts of wind. Yes, that was exactly what he needed. Something to blow the memory of Mai's face out of his mind, a moment to breathe, to settle his thoughts away from other people…

"You missed the sunset."

… Crap.

Zuko turned in the direction of the voice and only then spotted Sokka's father, Chief Hakoda, who was standing in the shadow a few steps away from him, leaning against the wall of the airship. His arms crossed over his chest, he was looking at Zuko with a smile that seemed open and inviting, at least on the surface. The wind was playing with his hair, too; the beads jingled and clicked softly as they hit against one another.

"Yeah," murmured Zuko, startled by how silent the man had been and suddenly feeling uneasy. "Sorry. I didn't see you."

"That's okay. There's plenty of space here for both of us."

Zuko, whose body was already gearing itself to get up and leave, frowned. Was that… an invitation to stay? It sounded like one, surprisingly enough, and Chief Hakoda's tone seemed amiable and relaxed, but Zuko couldn't help but feel like an intruder. Sokka's father hadn't given him any indication that he found his presence suspicious ever since they broke out of the Boiling Rock, but that didn't mean he liked the idea of having an ex-prince of the Fire Nation on the same airship with him, not to mention one that had a history of relentlessly hunting down his children.

Besides, it was… uncomfortable to watch him and Sokka together. Not that Zuko wasn't happy for his – well, for his friend. He was. But he still found himself wandering around the airship and seeking out places that would keep him out of the others' sight, just so he wouldn't have to look at them interact, so easily and openly, with so much – affection. He was sure Suki, at least, appreciated that. She hadn't alluded to him burning down her village again, nor did she give him any hostile looks, but…

It was better to get away.

"I should probably go," he murmured out into the thickening night.

"Why?" Hakoda's tone was light and companionable and Zuko had no idea what to make of it. It wasn't at all how he expected the proud Chief to react to him.

"I don't want to interrupt."

"Yes, well, my conversation with the clouds was rather riveting. I'm crushed to have an actual human being to talk to now."

Zuko frowned at him.

"That was a joke, Zuko."

Oh. Right. Sokka's dad.

"Sorry." The prince hoisted himself up and turned to leave. "I'm not very good company."

"Actually," Hakoda detached himself from the wall and took a step towards Zuko, "I've been wanting to have a chat with you. You've been avoiding people all day and I don't think that's very good for you at the moment."

The words, though spoken softly and without a detectable trace of malice, chilled Zuko more effectively than the icy wind; he stopped dead in his tracks and met the man's gaze, squaring his shoulders almost on instinct.

Here it goes, he thought. The talk he'd been expecting. Stay away from my children, don't lay a finger on them, I'll keep my eye on you, don't go anywhere where I can't see you…

He couldn't blame the man. He would probably feel the same way if their positions were reversed. Besides, Hakoda was Katara's father too and her glares still cut into him just as effectively as her waves of ice at the North Pole.

So he stood there in front of the Water Tribe Chief, straight and rigid like a soldier, and steeled himself for what he knew was coming…

Only it didn't come. Instead, the man lay a cold hand on his shoulder and squeezed briefly in a way that was… that seemed…

Comforting.

Like he would act towards a comrade in arms.

"That girl," he said softly. "The one who saved us. Sokka told me she is important to you."

… What?

"I hope you're not thinking about doing anything stupid," the man kept talking, oblivious to the storm of confusion in Zuko's head. "I know what it is to be in love at your age, but don't let her noble sacrifice go to waste. Respect her choice. Going back to free her would not help her or anyone else. Teaching the Avatar Firebending, helping him end the war, is the best thing you can do for her now."

Zuko could only stare. This…

This didn't make any sense.

"I know," he managed to murmur; the bracing hand on his shoulder didn't go away and was getting warmer. "I wasn't planning to go back."

Hakoda tilted his head to the side skeptically and narrowed his striking eyes at him; obviously he didn't believe that.

"You sure?" he asked softly, his grip on Zuko's arm getting firmer.

The prince nodded, his throat suddenly feeling strangely tight. He knew everything Hakoda said was true. Mai would understand.. eventually. Personal wasn't the same as important; not anymore. Saving the world from his father's madness was the priority right now.

But knowing all that didn't make him feel any better.

Besides, he didn't even know if Mai was… If Azula didn't…

No. He would not think of that. If he started, he would fall, and he wasn't all that sure he could get back up again this time.

Mai was all right. She had to be.

Some of those thoughts must have crept into his face, because suddenly a thumb was rubbing a soothing circle on his shoulder and a strong, calloused hand crept to his chin to lift it. He blinked and looked up at Sokka's father who was gazing at him intently, his blue eyes clear and concerned.

There was not a trace of hostility or suspicion anywhere in that gaze, no matter how hard Zuko tried to find them.

"I'm sure she's fine," said the warrior softly. "You'll see her again, son. Don't worry."

Son.

Zuko nodded once the muscles in his neck regained the ability to move. There really wasn't much he could say to that, even if he didn't have this strange bile suddenly blocking his throat.

This man called him son as though that was the easiest, most natural thing in the world. As though he… accepted Zuko. As though he regarded him – him! – Sokka's equal.

Ozai hadn't addressed him like that in years.

He watched as Hakoda's face softened back into a smile, mind still reeling with questions. This wasn't how his first proper conversation with the man was supposed to go. He should be apologizing to him, trying to prove his sincerity, accepting threats and conditions, not be comforted…

But the strangely soothing hand on his shoulder did not disappear, nor did it seem like it was going to. And that pair of eyes, just as intensely blue as Sokka's and Katara's were, kept looking into his with an intensity Zuko had no idea how to interpret but which he couldn't look away from – not even when it turned uncomfortable.

"I never thanked you," said Chief Hakoda after a beat of this silent scrutiny, his tone firmer now, as though an intimate moment Zuko had no idea even happened had passed. "I was really impressed with you, Zuko. You have the courage and skill of a seasoned warrior."

"Thanks," mumbled the boy. This was getting stranger by the second. "But… shouldn't you be with Sokka?"

"I'm not the only one who missed my son," Hakoda's smile turned into a crooked, practically wolfish grin. "His brave lady friend demanded his attention quite fiercely. I didn't want to intrude."

"Oh. Right."

For a moment, Zuko felt as if Hakoda expected him to say something more, but then the man stepped away and took his hand off Zuko's shoulder, leaving an unexpected flower of chill and a vague sense of loss in its wake. He leaned against the wall of the airship again and looked out ahead, into the night which had claimed the world almost completely by now. Zuko watched him for a stretching moment, unsure whether he should stay or go and leave the man to his musings, when Hakoda spoke again, letting the wind carry his words out to the navy sea below:

"Sokka told me a little about you. Not much, but it was enough to… draw some conclusions."

Ah. So they were about to have The Talk after all. Zuko took a deep breath and steeled himself in preparation once more, trying very hard not to feel disappointed.

"I don't presume to know anything about your past or motives," continued the Chief in that quiet, steady voice, as though he was addressing an equal, one of his warriors perhaps, instead a renegade teenage prince of the enemy nation whom he had never seen before. "But I can sense you are uneasy. Don't be. We all have black spots in our past that we'd like to wipe clean, but it's impossible. We can only move on and hope that our actions in the present will somehow make up for sins of the past."

"What do you mean?" asked Zuko stiffly. He wasn't sure if what he thought was implied was actually there – and if it was, if he could reach out and accept it, just like that, no matter how much he wanted to. "I've made so many mistakes, I –"

I threatened your village and put your people in danger. I chased your children and caused them harm. I turned my back on your daughter's trust and humiliated your son.

"Look here," Hakoda turned to face him once again, his gaze steady and hard, but astoundingly not stern or threatening. "I tried to ask my son about you and all the answers he gave me were vague. He didn't want to go into any details about what you did in the past. Do you know why?"

Zuko shook his head, clenching his fists. He didn't realize he was biting his lower lip until he felt the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

"Because he doesn't want to dwell on the past. He's accepted you. He trusts you and wants to give you a clean slate. That alone, especially coupled with what you did for both of us back there, that you brought Sokka to the prison in the first place… though, I have to be clear, it was a very careless and stupid thing to do…" here Hakoda's eyes seemed to twinkle with playfulness, "is good enough for me. I'm not going to make you justify yourself to me because your actions have already done that. I believe in redemption. So relax, son. You won't be getting any hard time from me."

… And was there anything Zuko could say to that? He couldn't think of anything, anything at all, so, after a while, after a silence filled with a strange sort of understanding, he settled for a quiet "Thank you."

And when Hakoda smiled at him again, something in Zuko stirred suddenly; something he thought would not stir again for a long time. All at once, there was a flash of memory, a cabin in the dark and a man, his strong arms and solid, warm body, his calloused soldier's hands leaving trails of sensation all over Zuko's skin, his gruff, quiet voice whispering into his ear, a hardness moving inside him until he had to bite the sheets not to cry out…

It was just a flash, an image sparking to life like a firebending blast, hot and intense and gone in a second. But it was enough to suddenly make Zuko notice other things about the man in front of him – wrong, inappropriate things.

Like how handsome he was. How warm and inviting his eyes looked, how playful, even despite the seeming coldness of their color. How the threadbare prison clothes did nothing to hide the muscular body, a warrior's body, beneath. How comfortingly solid he seemed, standing there and inviting Zuko into his life without question or conditions. How… safe.

How good his hand felt on Zuko's shoulder.

He had to look away then, afraid that some of those thoughts might creep out of his mind and into his face.

No. This man wasn't Jee. It was Sokka's fucking father, and he would never want to give Zuko what the prince's body suddenly demanded. He wouldn't even consider it…

No matter how much Zuko suddenly, inexplicably, wanted to feel him inside. No matter how much he missed Jee and what he had with him. No matter how much he needed something to help him forget – about him, about leaving Mai behind…

This man wouldn't help him.

… Or would he?

The traitorous flame of doubt blazed in Zuko's mind just as violently as a sudden stronger gust of cold air which tore at them; Hakoda shivered.

"It's a bit chilly out here," he said, smiling in a way that could be called sheepish, as though admitting to a juvenile folly.

"I don't really feel it so much," whispered Zuko, trying now to look anywhere but at the man.

"Oh, right. Firebender." He heard rather than saw the smile in Hakoda's voice. "You did feel very warm. I should probably go back inside, but the view up here is so magnificent, it seems a shame..."

You did feel very warm…

Shit.

Zuko swallowed, the fire coiling in his gut, his decision – stupid, stupid, horrible decision – made.

He acted on it before his thoughts decided to turn against him again and walked up to Hakoda in a few, firm strides, then reached out and touched the man's arm. "You don't have to go," he whispered, trying to swallow down the bile of nerves creeping into his voice. "I, uh… I can help."

Hakoda really was cold – Zuko could see the goosebumps breaking out on the Chief's dark skin. He took a deep breath, concentrated – trying not to think about the time when he learned this technique, though the memory was never very far – and focused his inner fire on the tips of his fingers and in his palm, enough to make it crowd and tingle impatiently just under his skin without actually being released. It was difficult and required a shitload of control – even now the fire pricked and throbbed, looking for a way out – but Zuko still had the memory of the dragons' fire burning fresh in his mind and filling him with a new, almost peaceful confidence.

Fire is life.

He didn't slip as he guided his warmed-up hands to Hakoda's shoulders and then down, fully expecting the man to chase him away.

He didn't. Instead, Sokka's father released a small sigh as Zuko's hands reached past the sleeves of his prison shirt and touched bare, chilled skin, and he shivered as they traveled down to lead the warmth into his wrists and palms, then back up.

"This feels good," Zuko heard the Chief mutter, and nodded; he knew it would. He'd used this technique on a non-bender before and Mai's reaction had been… encouraging. He was focusing on his hands and wasn't looking into the man's face, so he didn't know what it looked like at the moment, but the tone sounded pleased, so the prince took it as a cue to continue.

He tried hard not to think about the muscles he touched as he worked, tried not to imagine them enveloping him, tried to block the memories this whole situation brought; and miraculously enough, his hands didn't shake. But he did have to gulp as, after a moment's nervous hesitation, his palms slid from the broad shoulders to Hakoda's firm, muscled chest.

"Is this… all right?" he asked and cringed at the sound of his own voice; his throat was dry and the words trickled out small and scared in this vast expanse of sky and sea around them, in the shadow of the airship's giant balloon.

"Yes." A pair of strong, calloused hands closed on his wrists briefly – they felt so much like Jee's, only colder – causing Zuko to glance up at the man he was trying to warm up. "Thank you. I never imagined I'd appreciate any form of Firebending. We could use some of that back home." Hakoda's smile was open and grateful, his blue eyes twinkling, and Zuko had to look away again before he did something stupid that he wouldn't be able to walk away from.

"Fire is not just destruction," he forced out through his clenched, dry throat.

"I can see that now."

Zuko's hands slid across Hakoda's chest, slowly, gently transferring the liquid fire from his veins into another body. It was getting harder to stay focused now, much, much harder, but he forced himself into even, rhythmical breaths and kept moving, drawing painstakingly methodical circles across the Chief's covered torso and then abdominal muscles, before moving up and down his shoulders and arms again.

And it was astonishing, purely astonishing, that Hakoda let him. He just stood there, allowing the son of the Fire Lord to warm him up using the art he'd fought against for years, surely knowing how dangerous this could have been. If he experienced any flashes of suspicion and hesitation, he never let them show and simply submitted himself to Zuko's ministrations without protest and with so much…

Trust.

Unquestioned, implicit trust.

Stupid, some people would say. Maybe. But to Zuko, this display of confidence meant something he could not possibly express, ever. For some reason Hakoda relied on him not to hurt him and Zuko damn well wouldn't.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Watch his own hands, not the body they were touching. Visualize the fire, like a liquid. Keep it in. Seep it out carefully. Stop the flames from bursting. Contain the warmth. Guide, not force. Let out instead of push. Slowly.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…

"Zuko." Hakoda's quiet voice sounded surprisingly close. "Are you all right?"

He hadn't realized his breath had been getting louder, or that it shook on every exhale, or that his hands finally did start to shiver ever so slightly, until he felt Hakoda getting closer; and it was by Agni's blessing alone that his hands hadn't sprouted flames when the man's arms suddenly closed around him, pulling him close, his healthy cheek now pressed against a strong, warmed-up chest and a steadily beating heart.

"Why –" he managed to choke out, then felt Hakoda's hand go up to cradle the back of his head.

"You seemed like you needed that" was the Chief's reply, his breath buried in Zuko's hair. "You brave, brave boy."

It was instinct that led Zuko's hands to close around the man's back and grab two fistfuls of prison rag, tightly, and to take a step closer so that Hakoda embraced all of him while he pressed his cheek harder against the material and closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath.

Humiliating, a little, inner voice hissed into his ear. He was pathetic. He shouldn't be so needy, so fucking clingy. And he damn well shouldn't be getting turned on by this man, no matter how much he may have missed… certain things. Spirits, what the fuck was wrong with him? He talked to Mai just a few hours ago, he'd left her at Azula's mercy! He should be thinking about her, not about how good this felt, being held like that, and how much he wanted to just stay that way, locked in this safe embrace of a father that wasn't his but who was ready to accept him anyway, until they reached the Western Air Temple; or how he wanted that other thing even more…

Pathetic.

And yet he held on anyway, burying his face in the man's chest as Hakoda cradled him closer and breathed warm air into his healthy ear. He kept his eyes shut and listened to the heartbeat so near his face, so strong and steady, so alive.

Maybe the Chief was right. Maybe he did need this.

But he also needed something else, and needed it much, much and more, and suddenly he knew it wasn't just his body anymore.

Which was why what happened next affected him so badly.

"Mmm," murmured Hakoda softly, holding him even closer. "So warm."

It sounded almost as if he hadn't meant it to slip out; as though Hakoda wasn't even aware of having uttered anything. His voice was an absent whisper, deep and reverberating through his chest, and Zuko shivered almost involuntarily, feeling it travel straight to his groin.

Oh Agni, he was getting hard now. And there was absolutely no way he could stop it without physically running away.

But maybe he didn't have to. Hakoda was a warrior. He'd spent years on the front and must… understand certain things. Yes, he was a widower and he probably still loved his wife, but that didn't mean… After all, Zuko still missed Jee and loved Mai… Maybe they could just… Because who said they couldn't, and maybe Hakoda did find other ways to satisfy his needs after a while, so…

And he liked Zuko's warmth. He liked having him close, in his arms. So maybe…

It was madness. But Zuko was going to try anyway.

He concentrated again and sent more heat to his hands, then, slowly, started massaging it into Hakoda's back. Hesitantly at first, then with more boldness when he heard a soft murmur of what could only be pleasure breathed into his hair. Swallowing loudly, he pressed on, shifting his head so that his forehead rested on the man's collarbone – he could breathe out warm air on Hakoda's chest this way. He could feel the body embracing him relax, inch by inch, as his hands worked up and down in the same careful circles, spreading liquid fire over wind-chilled skin.

"Zuko, you don't have to do this," he heard the man whisper into his ear even as Hakoda's arms grew more lax and started drawing circles of their own on Zuko's back over his prison clothes. "I'm Southern Water Tribe. We're used to being cold."

"I know." The prince was careful to make the words an exhalation of heat that seeped into the Chief's skin. "But I want to."

"I can just go inside…"

"Don't." Oh fuck, did he really just say that out loud? He was sick, he really was… "…Please," he added in a small voice, ghosting a breath along Hakoda's collarbone and brushing the skin with his lips, just barely, the pressure only just strong enough to be felt.

Well, this was it. He had made his intentions clear, and if that wasn't a big enough clue, then surely his traitorous erection was. There was no way Hakoda would miss it now, pressed against the boy like that. Zuko could just as well take the plunge and see what would happen.

And if he got rejected, well then…

Wouldn't be the first time.

But then his eyes widened as he felt… something new. Something starting to dig into his hip.

Wait. Was that…

Oh spirits.

"Zuko," he heard Hakoda grunt, his voice low and more gravelly than it had been before, a warning, clearly, but also obviously… aroused.

His heart beating loudly, his eyes still closed, desire dangerously close to turning the warmth in his hands into real flames, Zuko leaned in again and kissed the dark skin of Sokka's father's collarbone. His hips moved all on their own, pressing into the hardness that was very tangible now, and rolled, just a little. It was enough to make his whole body shudder in want.

He felt the Chief's hands move back up to grip his shoulders, possibly to stop him, but he held on, grabbing onto Hakoda's shirt and rocking his hips again, his leg forcing itself between Hakoda's. A small whimper escaped him as he felt Hakoda's erection brush against his own, and pressed in harder, his hips now rolling in a motion that felt absolutely unstoppable.

"Zuko."

No.

He felt Hakoda try to push at his arms to make him stop, but he only clutched harder, refusing to stop, his breathing heavy and desperate as his body sought out pleasure without even consulting the brain. He knew it was obscene, wrong and pathetic, that he was being a disgrace to his ancestors all over again, that he was basically molesting this man, who was Sokka's father, and he should really, really stop. But he couldn't. He simply couldn't.

"I can make you feel good," he whispered, his voice needy and desperate even to his own ears. "I want to."

His right, heat-coated hand travelled down to close around Hakoda's hardness to demonstrate just how good he could make him feel, but that was when the Chief seemed to collect his wits again; his fingers closed around the boy's wrist before the hand reached its goal, stilling him in an iron grip. Zuko felt himself being pushed away, firmly, and held in place by the man's other hand, which closed in an equally strong grip on his shoulder.

"No" was the single word which cut the boy deep like an icicle slicing through skin. "I'm sorry, Zuko, but I won't do this to you. I can't."

"Why?" Zuko looked up to meet Hakoda's eyes, familiar anger and stupid, absurd hurt now flaring up and mingling with desire. "I can see we both want the same thing."

His hips rolled against the man's swelling cock again, just to prove a point, and the way Hakoda's face seemed to shudder all over before it closed up again gave Zuko all the incentive he needed to press on.

"Please," he leaned in and whispered into Hakoda's neck. "I… I need this."

"You're just a boy," he heard in response; the Chief's voice was low and husky now, thick with lust and restraint. "You're barely older than my son."

"Am I?" Zuko stepped back again at that and stared into the man's eyes, hard. "Look at me then. You look at me and tell me if I'm really just a boy."

Amazingly, Hakoda did. They stared into each other's eyes, standing barely a breath away, both tense and aroused and breathing heavily, while the airship sailed through the night with the thrum of engines and the howling of the wind up in the clouds.

And Zuko could see it, could see Hakoda's thoughts shift and glide behind his eyes as this deep, blue gaze assessed him, could already feel the resolve crack…

"I haven't been a boy for a long time," he whispered forcefully, raising his chin. "I'm of age. And I… I've been with an older man before."

Hakoda's eyes widened at that and he froze, opening his mouth to say something, probably to express his shock and outrage, but Zuko would not have anyone preach morality at him and besmirch Jee's memory like that – so he plowed on, not letting the Chief let out so much as a syllable: "You won't corrupt me. I don't have any innocence left to preserve. I know what I want. So if you want this too… which I can feel you do… there really is no reason why we shouldn't."

"You're Sokka's friend."

Zuko had to look down at that. "Maybe," he whispered. "I'm not sure if I am. But even so, he… he wouldn't understand. He has Suki, his sister and you, he has other friends, and I… I'm still trying to make a place for myself. I need something to help me forget. I'm sure you understand. You're a warrior. And this has nothing to do with him."

When the silence after those words stretched without Hakoda saying anything, just looking at Zuko, long, hard and searching, his face marred by a serious frown, Zuko had to look away again.

Of course… there was that. He'd forgotten. He'd been stupid, naïve enough to forget.

"Unless…" he started quietly, his voice small and stupidly helpless, "unless you're too disgusted. I'd understand. I'm a Firebender, I'm damaged goods, I know, and that…"

His hand went up to touch the scar almost without Zuko realizing what he was doing, but he was startled to feel a big, rough hand cup his healthy cheek and tilt his head up; when he blinked and looked up into Hakoda's eyes again, he almost gasped at what he saw there.

"You're not damaged goods, Zuko," said the man earnestly, leaning in and bowing his head slightly. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle even in the darkness. "You're beautiful." Hakoda's thumb stroked his chin, travelled up to his slightly parted lips and lingered there as the Water Tribe Chief seemed to make up his mind. "So very beautiful," he whispered, and then he leaned in all the way to close Zuko's lips with his.

Yes. Yes, finally. It was exactly what he wanted. There was a strong warrior's hand closing around his neck to keep him in place, just as he liked, and when he stepped closer again, his body rubbed against hard muscle. It felt wonderful, so wrong and wonderful…

…Only Hakoda's kiss was slow. And gentle. Too gentle, almost as if he was afraid or still felt that he was doing the wrong thing. The prince pressed on harder, hoping it would spur the man into more decisive action, but the Water Tribe Chief seemed to have barriers he was not willing to cross.

At least, not yet.

Oh spirits damn it all.

Zuko rubbed himself against Hakoda's hardness, long and insistent, to get his own urgency across, then broke away from the kiss and looked into the man's eyes, now shrouded by darkness.

"Not like this," he panted against warm lips. "I am not. A. Child."

"No," whispered Hakoda after what felt like ages. "You're not."

He wasn't gentle at all after that.

His lips took control, guiding Zuko's to open wide again; his arms grabbed on tightly and with no more fear; his leg shoved itself between Zuko's, giving him blissful friction. The prince moaned into the kiss when he felt a pair of hands slide down his back and knead his buttocks, and the next thing he knew, he was being lifted in the air, his legs closing around Hakoda instinctively.

Yes, he thought as his back hit against the wall of the airship and Sokka's father pinned him there, holding him up. Yes. More.

The lips disappeared from his then, but it was okay because they reappeared seconds later on his neck, leaving wet trails as they kissed all around it in search of sensitive spots. Zuko gasped and bit back moans, Hakoda using the sounds he made as his cue, and his hips started moving all on their own, his body knowing all too well what to do now.

They would have done it then. They would have had sex right there, up in the air on the catwalk against the cold metal hull of the airship, with the wind catching the sounds from their throats and sending them off to sea, with the darkness shrouding them from the rest of the world. And Zuko would have been happy to let it happen, would have been content to have this man fuck him rough and quick this way before anyone caught them. It would have been good. Appropriate, somehow.

And they were headed straight for that, with the pace of their hips undulating against each other quick and urgent, their hands desperate, their lips impatient…

But something, a sound, an echo of a sound, something very far away indeed and barely there on the edge of Zuko's feverish consciousness, made Hakoda pause and freeze, pinning Zuko's body against metal. He stood there, the limbs of the ex-Fire prince wrapped around him, and listened, holding his shaky breath, his eyes suddenly sharp and focused, a hunter listening for prey.

"What is it?" whispered Zuko, his voice barely there at all as he moved his lips against Hakoda's temple. "Someone there?"

The Chief shook his head, but his hold on Zuko slackened. The boy felt himself being put down again and, reluctantly, stood on his own two feet, but the hold he had on Hakoda's shirt didn't loosen.

Hakoda looked at him then, eyes hard and bright, and closed his hand around Zuko's in reassurance.

"Not here," he said softly. "It's not safe here. Come with me."

Mutely, trying to calm down his racing heart, Zuko followed Hakoda's tall figure out of the open air and into the metallic darkness. And had to bite his tongue painfully not to gasp at the sight of Sokka and Suki, chatting merrily by the control station, completely oblivious to the fact that only seconds ago Sokka's father was leaving bite marks on Zuko's neck against the other side of the wall.

If any of them had decided to come out for some fresh air…

Fuck.

It was dark in here, the feeble reddish light from the control station bleeding out into the corridor only just bright enough to illuminate the way, and Zuko felt ridiculously grateful for that. It meant that no one would see the erections tenting their loose prison pants and making it painfully obvious just what had been going on outside.

Secrecy. Lurking around in the shadows. For a moment, it felt like the ship all over again… But Zuko firmly stomped on the thought before it had a chance to bloom.

"There you are!" Sokka waved at them, his grin enormous as he put an arm casually around Suki who seemed positively radiant, even despite the prison rags. "We've been wondering where you went off to. We should be back at the Western Air Temple in a couple of hours, right, Zuko?"

"Uh… yeah." The prince had to swallow twice before he could get some of the rawness out of his voice. "More or less."

"Zuko here was just about to show me the engines," said Hakoda calmly; Zuko had to wonder at the man's composure. Looking at him, one would never guess…

"Really?" Sokka's eyes went amazingly wide at this. "Cool! Can I come with?"

"Sure, but someone has to keep steering," his father pointed out logically. "Where's Chit Sang, by the way?"

"Snoring away in Azula's quarters." Suki rolled her eyes. "You two go ahead. Sokka and I will make sure we don't crash into any mountains. You can go see the engines later." The last remark was addressed to Sokka, who looked disappointed for about a split of second before he directed his gaze back at her, upon which his face lit up again into that sappy, gooey expression of pure adoration.

"Fine. Have fun, guys. And Zuko, never fear, Dad isn't as scary as he looks."

The prince managed a feeble smile in response before he had to look away.

Spirits, he was such a damn messed-up fuck.

"Come on." Hakoda's warm voice urged him on, and he swallowed, following in the Chief's footsteps as the man began to walk in the direction of the engine room.

On their way there they passed what could only be Azula's quarters – a spacious cabin with a bed, an armor stand and a dressing table, spotlessly clean apart from the very recognizable lump of Chit Sang sprawled over the bed and, indeed, snoring away.

"Well," murmured Hakoda, sounding faintly amused, "at least we don't have to worry about him overhearing."

And, just like that, shivers danced all over Zuko's body as he swallowed down the sentence with all its implications.

Overhearing. While we fuck. Because we might moan. And make other noises.

He had to shut his eyes then, holding onto Hakoda's hand as the man led him further into the screeching darkness of the airship, and took deep, steadying breaths to chase away the memories. He was so hard now it almost hurt.

It was really going to happen. Hakoda wasn't going to try to back out of it anymore.

They were going to fuck.

The Water Tribe Chief kept on walking, Zuko trailing after him, until they reached the rear-most end of the airship; then he started looking about, probably in search of a room they could use.

"Here." Zuko pointed at random to the first half-open door he could see. "Let's try this one."

Hakoda took one look at the door, then nodded and stepped inside.

The room was long, relatively narrow and mostly empty save for two rows of metal benches lining up the walls. It looked like a place for people, possibly soldiers, to sit around and wait in if they had nothing better to do on the airship. Useful on short-distance flights if someone wanted a space in which to cram lots of listless men that would otherwise get in the way of the operating personnel, perhaps, but not exactly comfortable or practical for longer distances, Zuko mused – like the Earth  
Kingdom raids his father planned for the Comet's arrival.

He shuddered, moving past Hakoda and stepping further into the room.

He wouldn't think of that. Not now.

"Is this all right?" he asked quietly, looking out the tiny porthole opposite the door which let in what little moonlight silvered the sky that night.

Hakoda's voice was just as soft when he whispered a "Yes", after which Zuko heard the sound of heavy metal door closing with a very decisive, reverberating clang.

He breathed out, long and deliberate. Steady. He wasn't a virgin and he wasn't about to start acting like one.

"Do you want me to make us some light?"

The man behind him didn't answer at first; Zuko heard his footsteps instead, weightless like a practiced hunter's and nearly soundless as they crossed the distance between them. The boy closed his eyes when he heard Hakoda's voice in his ear.

"No. My night vision is good. It's better this way."

Yes, Zuko's thoughts agreed while Hakoda's hands snaked around his middle and started to slowly lift his prison shirt up over his head. It was better this way. Somehow.

"Are you sure about this, Zuko?" asked the Chief, hands pausing with the shirt in the middle of the prince's chest. "You haven't changed your mind?"

Oh for Agni's sake.

Zuko sighed, then took over from Hakoda forcibly and got rid of his shirt in one, swift pull. Then, he turned to face Sokka's father and, with the same, impatient movements, took off the prison pants together with the loincloth underneath.

"Does this answer your question?" he said, taking a step back so that Hakoda could see his body, his cock jutting out, ready and dark with blood. "Now, sit down. And no more of that uncertainty shit."

He felt giddy now, high on the very familiar mixture of adrenaline and want that always made him reckless, and self-assured, in control. The sensation was rare enough that he wanted to make the most of it while it lasted, so when Hakoda, apparently stunned into speechlessness, did as he was bid, Zuko shoved his discarded clothes under his knees, dove down between the man's legs and started tugging at his pants to get them out of the way.

"Well, you have to admit the situation is a bit… unexpected…" murmured Hakoda while the boy manhandled his clothes without a hint of self-consciousness, but with all the eagerness of a child presented with a new gift ready to be unwrapped. "Can't blame a man for double-checking..."

"You've double-checked enough," replied Zuko with a smirk; Hakoda's cock was in front of him now, dark, long and big, and twitching slightly at his words.

Yes. Oh, yes.

He closed his mouth around it immediately, taking in as much as he could without choking. It was easy, oh so easy, to plunge right back into the motions Jee always seemed to appreciate so much, even though the length and girth were different than what he was used to and he had to keep reminding himself that it was a non-bender he was pleasuring, so the amount of warmth in his mouth had to be kept in constant check. He decided against any kind of firebending for now, afraid that he would hurt Hakoda in the process of figuring out what amount of heat would cause pleasure without burning – especially given how hard it was to concentrate on anything coherent right now. It was shocking how good it felt to have another man's flesh in his mouth again, even if it wasn't that man's – and everything that came with it – the rush of control, the sheer, incomparable intimacy, the primal eroticism – was nigh intoxicating.

And sure, getting on his knees for a Water Tribe savage to suck him was probably an even greater sin in his ancestors' book than doing it for a lowly subordinate – Zuko almost snickered bitterly around his mouthful when the thought crossed his mind. Months ago, he would've roasted anyone who'd dare suggest it to a smoking pile of ashes.

Right now, he only started sucking harder.

And didn't think Take that, Father only because his father was really the last person Zuko wanted to think about right now.

He continued what had suddenly become an act of defiance with doubled enthusiasm, spurred on by the sounds that escaped Hakoda even though the man was obviously trying to keep quiet; clearly he wasn't expecting to get a blowjob into the bargain. There was a hand in Zuko's hair, grabbing, pulling hard, just hard enough for it to hurt in a deliciously right way, and the prince let out tiny whimpers to show he appreciated.

"You…" Hakoda's voice was now a rough exhale, "you do… know what you're… doing…" His hand closed into a fist, pulling harder at the boy's hair. "Someone… taught you."

Zuko let Hakoda's cock slip from his mouth for a moment and used his hand to make up for it, then smirked up at the man. "I told you," he whispered, his voice raw, the words scratching at his throat. "I've been with an older man before."

But perhaps the Chief didn't believe him back there; his eyes were wide, bright with intensity, hard and piercing. Suddenly, Zuko could see the questions eating away at him almost as clearly as though they were his own.

"I spent three years at sea," he whispered to prevent any of those questions from actually spilling out; he was sure that it would kill the moment beyond redemption, for both of them. "This should be enough of an explanation. And before you go on accusing my men of anything, I waswilling. Nobody forced me. Now, just… relax."

Never breaking eye-contact with the man, he gave Hakoda's cock a long lick, from the base to the very tip, then took it into his mouth again, as far as it would go. The throaty grunt this elicited from the man was a decisive sign that yes, this ugly conversation nobody wanted to have anyway was indeed over and they could move on to more productive, enjoyable things. To celebrate, Zuko raised the temperature of his mouth an experimental notch to gauge Hakoda's reaction, and, satisfied at the hiss this produced, kept firebending just a little to keep those strangled sounds vibrating in his ears.

And to think he used to have qualms about doing this… Stupid. There was nothing to compare to this, to this overwhelming control, to the closeness, the trust. The power. Even with him on his knees like that there was absolutely no question of who was playing whom, and to have this powerful statue of a man react to him this way was making Zuko lightheaded.

This, at least, he could control. This, he was good at. And he would enjoy this brief moment of empowerment and cherish it, because he knew it never lasted for long.

But he wanted even more, didn't he…

When he paused again, it was to replace Hakoda's cock with his own fingers to slick them. Good as this was, he was getting impatient. It was in all certainty the only time they would fuck and Zuko was determined to take all of it, everything.

And that was why, when he resumed his sucking, he reached out between his legs and started preparing himself, quick and rough.

Which was when Hakoda's hips jerked up and the Chief's head hit the metal wall. Zuko thought he heard a choked "Fuck," but he couldn't be sure, letting out needy murmurs of his own.

Soon. Soon… Agni, how he needed this.

"Fuck me," he whispered in a raw voice, looking up into Hakoda's eyes.

The man didn't reply; instead, his breath caught, and then he was off the bench, tugging at his clothes to shed them. They were both panting now, the air heavy with their lust, and Zuko's cock ached, but he wouldn't touch himself – not yet. Still on his knees, he bent over the bench and grabbed onto it, waiting.

And then, out of nowhere, there was Mai, looking at him, just like she did when he left her in that cell. Zuko's stomach clenched, stabbed by cold needles of guilt even as he felt a warm body kneeling behind him and a strong hand caressing his back.

Mai's accusing glare bore into him as vividly as though she stood right next to him in the dark room; her smoky voice echoed in his head clear and cutting deep.

Bastard.

He screwed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead into the coldness of the bench.

Fuck, he was sorry. He'd be sorry for the rest of his life. But he and Mai were no longer together – he couldn't even hope she'd want to come back to him after everything, if they managed to see this whole mission through and survive. Yes, she saved them – saved him – lost everything just for him – which meant, perhaps, that… He knew, deep down, that it meant…

But that was in the realm of the abstract now. Had to be. She had become a shadow in his head, another face to haunt him on the border of sleep and wakefulness, another voice to call to him in his dreams, another burden to weigh his shoulders down with responsibility; and he couldn't indulge in thoughts of her anymore than he could lose himself in memories of Mother, Uncle, of Jee. He had decided it had to be this way as soon as he finally chose to do what was right; he was now determined to stick to it, even regardless of everything that happened in the Boiling Rock. Because Hakoda was right in that him worrying about Mai wouldn't help her – his actions would. And to act, he had to keep his head clear, his focus sharp, his judgment unclouded.

To live, in short, in the present.

Which didn't make any of this right, but which lifted the coldness of guilt from his stomach a little.

The here and now. That was everything that mattered. In the world as it was, he couldn't be sure he'd see the light of tomorrow, never mind have a chance to rebuild his life in the distant, vague after. There was no after.

So, eyes still closed and head still pressing into the bench, he bit his lower lip and focused on the sensation of being prepared, stretched – very tentatively, very carefully – by Hakoda's thick, strong fingers. They were slick with saliva, but the burn was still there – and Zuko was glad it was, he welcomed it and the sharp focus it brought to his mind. Hakoda, however, seemed to fall back into his state of hesitation when he realized one simple truth:

"We have nothing to…"

Fuck.

"Doesn't matter," Zuko gritted out through clenched teeth and heavy breath. The bench and the floor were heating up to match his excitement. "Just use your spit. I want you in me, now."

"Zuko, no. I can't do it like this. I'll hurt you."

"No you won't!" He practically screamed. His fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms so hard they nearly drew blood.

They couldn't stop now, they couldn't, they couldn't…

"I'm ready," he breathed. "I need it. Now."

There was a pause. A spell of silence, heavy and charged and weighing him down like his guilt had moments before. That's it, he thought bitterly, clenching and unclenching his fists, Hakoda's fingers still buried inside of him and driving him mad whenever they brushed against his prostate. They'd stop now. Sure, they could finish using mouths and hands, it was probably the more sensible thing to do, but to be so close, so very close and then be denied…

It hurt.

Then the fingers disappeared and Zuko almost howled at the loss – but next he felt something thicker, something wet, touching his entrance as a pair of hands spread his cheeks, and he moaned.

Hakoda's tongue. His mouth, right there. Sweet spirits…

He grabbed onto the bench again, hard, and bit his lip so hard that he actually did taste the metallic spill of blood, all to keep quiet as the Water Tribe tongue worked its way inside him. He had this done to him before, it was nothing new, but still, the very fact that Hakoda would choose to pleasure him in such a way, the surprise of it…

Feverish-warm fingers closed around his aching, neglected erection even as he ground himself into the bench. He had to touch himself now, just a bit. It was a reflex he could do nothing about. Like the heat flaring up in the metal room all around them, wrenching sweat out of their bodies and turning the place into a steambath before Zuko could recover some semblance of coherence and try to calm down.

Hakoda didn't pause. No. His tongue worked eagerly, lapping and prodding and deliberate, and Zuko's palpable excitement only seemed to spur him on. And he was good at it. The boy kept biting on his own tongue and lips desperately, but even this could not stop a few stray moans from tearing themselves out of his throat.

Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…

His hips rocked and Hakoda's hands seemed to welcome it, guiding them into a rhythm. Zuko's hand on his cock squeezed harder. Any more of that and he would burst…

"P-please," he sighed, much louder than he'd intended. At this point, he had no idea just what he was pleading for, but it didn't matter because Hakoda groaned into him and the sound seemed to travel straight through his veins.

The room flared up with steamy heat again and this time, Zuko experienced a pang of fear that he might actually burn Hakoda. This trepidation was confirmed when the Chief's mouth disappeared, leaving him open and bereft – but only for a split of second, because soon he found himself being wrapped up in strong arms and maneuvered onto the floor.

The metal under his skin was hot as it was, but Hakoda pushed him down onto their crumpled clothes anyway and this little, practically mindless act of caring made Zuko's breath catch again, for very different reasons.

And then this, too, was pushed out of his mind when he found himself on his back with this powerful presence hovering above him, spreading his legs wide open, a pair of bright, searing eyes glaring holes into him.

"I want to see you," he heard Hakoda's voice; it was low, throaty and had a deep, primal sensuality in it that suddenly made him seem like a wolf.

How fitting, Zuko's lust-addled brain managed to think while he hooked his legs impatiently over those dark, broad shoulders.

"Whenever you feel you need to stop," breathed Hakoda, pressing down on him and accentuating every word with a kiss to Zuko's right leg, "just tell me. Let me know. I'll stop. I won't hurt you, Zuko."

The boy nodded, shutting his eyes and hissing when Hakoda nibbled a tender spot on his ankle. There was a wet, pulsing hardness pressing against him, teasing him, probing at his entrance –

"You sweet boy," he heard a breathy whisper, accompanied with a groan as Hakoda positioned himself. "You poor, sweet boy."

Zuko's eyes snapped open.

Poor? As if! He'd be damned if he let himself be pitied like tha—

Oh.

Whatever angry words were going to explode out of him died and bled into a long, loud moan when he felt Hakoda enter him, slowly and surely, inch by agonizing inch. His back arching all on its own, his toes curling, his body tensing automatically, he locked his eyes with the Chief's and then understood just why Hakoda wanted to take him like this: he wanted to study Zuko's reactions to judge whether the pain really wasn't too much.

Well then. Zuko would prove to him that it wasn't.

He forced himself to calm down and breathe, his gaze never leaving Hakoda's. It had been a while since he last had anything this large enter him and he felt the intrusion more sharply than was initially comfortable, but it was nothing he couldn't deal with. Breathe, he reminded himself. Breathe. And relax. Pain was just another obstacle to be overcome. The sting was only a reminder of what was happening – and a promise for what was still to come.

He could deal with pain. He liked it. Having to fight tooth and nail for everything in his life, he'd learned long ago that it was the victory that mattered, and it was only satisfying if it was hard-earned.

"More," he breathed out, moving his hips up to absorb more of the man. One of his legs slid down Hakoda's shoulder, tracing warmed, tanned skin, and rested on the Chief's hip, where it dug in, pushing him closer.

"Oh spirits." For a moment, Hakoda stilled and shut his eyes, bracing himself to remain steady, his breath labored, a shiver running down his body…

And then he leaned down and kissed Zuko ferociously, his cock suddenly buried completely inside the boy, and Zuko would have cried out, he really would, if he hadn't had a hot, insistent mouth on his, swallowing down the sound.

His hands gained a life of their own and danced all over Hakoda's back, their torsos sliding and rubbing against one another, skin to skin; the Chief's weight was crushing him in a way that felt impossibly right; his arm was snaking around Zuko's arching back, cradling him and pulling him closer; their hips rocked in a clumsy search for rhythm as Hakoda pulled out and pushed in again. This time, Zuko lifted his own body to meet him and the angle was just right, and his cry was way too loud but he no longer cared, the thrum of the engine and the howl of the wind would drown it anyway.

Yes, he wanted to moan, yes, yes, yes, but his lips were still being bruised in a kiss that tasted strange, and Hakoda's tongue was pushing in just as his hardness was, and now they settled into a rhythm and Agni.

The room was boiler-hot now and Zuko didn't care anymore, not when Hakoda wasn't complaining; and he was moaning, but he didn't realize it until the Chief grunted in-between kisses:

"Shhhh… can't… need to stay quiet."

But Zuko didn't miss the way his hips rocked against him in a sharper motion, or the way his breath seemed heavier with every sound he made, or the low grunts the noises elicited from the Chief. He liked it. Zuko's loudness turned him on.

So Zuko kept making noises in spite of everything, although more quietly – because the idea of anyone, let alone Sokka, finding them like that was enough to freeze the fire in his gut.

But it was hard to control himself when Hakoda's hands and lips were on him; when his cock was moving inside him; and when it all felt so right, so good, so safe and just as it should be.

Messy. Sweaty. Rough. Clumsy, too, and urgent. With the roar of the engine on the move, the lamenting wind, the floor vibrating with motion and feeling hot even to Zuko's firebender body, the darkness hiding them from prying eyes, they moved frantically, impatiently, both of them knowing exactly what they were after.

It didn't take long. Zuko was already stimulated to his limits even before they began fucking in earnest, so when Hakoda's hand closed on his straining, needy erection, it only took a few vigorous tugs to bring him crashing down in waves of white-hot pleasure that almost blinded him and seemed to last forever. The Chief, grunting, sped up then and fucked him almost spasmodically through his orgasm – Zuko was still floating on aftershocks when he felt a familiar sensation of someone else's seed spilling into him, and then Hakoda collapsed on top of him bonelessly, breathing heavy and ragged, heart beating just as quickly as Zuko's own.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that, their bodies cooling down and the temperature of the room gradually dropping as Zuko slowly regained his senses. The night outside was just as black as it had been before, with faint traces and twinkles of silver, the airship still creaked as it steadily closed the distance to the Western Air Temple, and when he focused, he could detect a vague sound of Chit Sang snoring somewhere far away.

But that was only when his own wildly beating heart slowed down and his breath ceased coming out of him in heavy, ragged puffs. Which, he guessed, must have taken a while, though telling the time here was nigh impossible. For now, he was content to just lie here with Hakoda's warm, beautiful body pressing down on him, and listen to the man's breathing, counting the heartbeats until it returned to normal.

It was… nice. Stealing some more time, just a little bit more, falling back into a silence that was spent and satisfied…

Zuko closed his eyes, letting the profound lull of relaxation take over.

Yeah. Nice.

It seemed like another eternity passed before Hakoda moved – and when he did Zuko let out a sigh, reluctantly preparing himself for the inevitable moment when he would have to get up, get dressed and face reality again. Instead, he felt the Chief's lips on his, pressing languidly, sleepily almost, Hakoda's beard scratching his chin and the beads brushing against his temple.

"You are a remarkable young man," Hakoda whispered into his lips. "Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

He didn't understand at first, but then the Chief, still kissing him, put his hand on his cheek.

The scarred one.

Zuko froze, but he didn't have the time to react as he usually would have – the gesture was too unexpected, and then Hakoda was gone, getting to his feet and glancing expectantly down at the boy. The odd little moment was brushed away – not dismissed, exactly, but put aside for now, and whatever the man was trying to convey by the brief, almost matter-of-fact touch would have to be left unspoken.

Reality waited for them and they couldn't steal any more time.

"You're not getting dressed," remarked Zuko rather stupidly after a beat of silence during which Hakoda didn't move.

"No." Zuko thought he glimpsed a crooked smile. "Hard to do that when you're still using our clothes as your bedding."

Oh. Right.

"Sorry," he murmured, reluctantly getting up.

Hakoda smiled at him and ruffled the boy's hair when he bent down to collect his rags.

"You know we can't do this ever again," he said softly after a while, tying the piece of rope around his pants.

"Yeah." Zuko nodded. He assumed that from the very beginning and was surprised to discover the words didn't inspire him with any particular bitterness.

Funny, he thought, putting the shirt back on over his head. He expected regret, a certain hollowness, disappointment. None of that came. Instead, the moment tasted strangely bittersweet, but in a way that was almost… right.

The simple truth is they risked enough by doing it in the first place. To continue it once they reached the Western Air Temple would be plain foolishness. And that was that.

"Thank you," the boy found himself whispering, turning his head away from Hakoda as he retied his own pants.

A spell of silence, more comfortable than it had any right to be under the circumstances. And then there was a hand on his shoulder again, strong and firm and reassuring, and it really didn't matter that they couldn't repeat this if he could feel this fatherly touch every once in a while to ground him into what was right.

"Thank you," replied Hakoda – and though Zuko couldn't see his face, he could hear the smile in his voice. It was warm and tender and poignant, and full of unspoken affirmation and, somehow, that was enough.

"Ready to go back?" asked the Chief after a while.

Zuko took a deep breath and nodded.

They reached the door together, but before Zuko could open it Hakoda reached out quickly and gathered him into his arms again – a simple, firm embrace, punctuated by a kiss to Zuko's forehead.

"I'm glad Sokka has you for a friend," he whispered into Zuko's hair.

And it should sound strange, the words inappropriate after what they had just done together, but… it didn't.

Instead, Zuko was once again haunted by a flash of memory of Jee, and he returned the embrace suddenly, feeling a bile return to his throat.

He couldn't bring himself to find any words to reply to this, but perhaps Hakoda wasn't expecting him to. The embrace ended as quickly as it began, and then the Chief was opening the door and stepping out into the corridor, the faint half-light claiming him and bringing out the brown of his skin, the warmth of his eyes.

And just like that, they were back in the world plunged into war, with duties and responsibilities and fathers and sons, and this time Zuko didn't look away from the scene as Sokka ran up to Hakoda enthusiastically, babbling about the mechanics of controlling an airship.

The Western Air Temple was close now, the mountains protecting it detaching themselves from the shapeless mass of shadows. Strange, how Zuko should feel uneasy about looking into Katara's eyes after what he'd done with her father… But he didn't. Not when Sokka randomly decided to treat him to a friendly noogie, either. He smiled right back, and returned Hakoda's smile, too, feeling more sure of himself and his choices than he did most of the time now, at least when he wasn't gazing into Uncle's portrait.

The guilt would come later, he figured. Along with all the other things he wasn't allowing himself to think about for now. In this moment, he felt peaceful, content and satisfied – and he was determined to cherish it.

After all, the present moment was all that mattered.


End file.
